Sensations
by light.in.life.is.you
Summary: A series of one-shots exploring moments of Santana and Brittany's relationship through the five senses. Next up, touch.
1. Sight

Sight.

The first time you see her it's just a glimpse. She's getting out of a big green van, clutching a little unicorn schoolbag. Her blonde hair is tied back in a pink ribbon. You don't recognise her, and you know she must be a transfer student. Everybody knows everybody in Lima, Ohio. You are walking in your first day with your plain purple backpack hanging off one shoulder, your heart hammering in your chest, looking around to see if anyone is hearing it. Middle school is a daunting place, but somehow you make it through first period.

You're walking through the school trying to find a bathroom, but the place is just sodamn big. And you're not about to ask a _teacher. _Finally, you find one, but it's up a stairs and down a few halls and you seem to be in an old part of the school that's completely empty. You're pretty sure you're never going to find your next class. You come out of a cubicle and you're washing your hands when you hear this little squeaking sound. Confused, you push open the only other cubicle door slowly, tentatively. There, sitting on the toilet lid, she is. Her ponytail askew, the bow in her ribbon undone._  
_

You want to make a smart remark, I mean there is a unicorn bag at her feet, but she looks so small and timid you can't bring yourself. And anyway, there isn't anyone around to see you be nice to the new kid, so you just stare at her for a while, and she stares back. She's actually kind of pretty, she'd be future competition for you if she weren't so- whatever she is. But she's just staring right at your eyes and her sparkling blue ones are unnerving you slightly, you can't put your finger on why, but you speak anyway, just to break the silence.

"Are you okay?" You say, more tender than you had intended. She shakes her head quietly. No answer.

"Um, why not?" You hold a hand out to her before you can stop yourself, and she looks at it. She clasps it slowly and you pull her up and lead her out of the cubicle.

"I'm not cool," she whispers, and you barely catch it.

"Why would you think that?" You ask after a moment. You can't believe you've gotten yourself into this situation.

"These girls said I wasn't." Her hand comes up and ghosts over her ponytail.

"They pulled out my ribbon." And she blinks out two fat tears, eyes sparkling under the bathroom lights.

You actually feel bad for her, even though you could totally see yourself saying that to someone, you _have_ said that to plenty of people not unlike her. For some reason it just feels wrong, maybe 'cause she's so innocent or something.

"Why do people say things like that kind stranger?" You frown at her strange question. And she whispers something to herself about not talking to strangers at the floor.

You remember that you are supposed to be getting the school wired, scoping out the populars and making friends, and your stuck in a bathroom with a strange girl who is blubbering all over the place.

You contemplate running while she's sobbing at the ground, or just saying something scathing to her and marching away, but she looks up at you again, scrutinising your face, obviously waiting for a reply.

"Because they're _bitches_," you reply, back in your normal voice. You can't just leave this poor thing here, you decide. Anyway, she definitely has potential, and you are a little fascinated with her extreme naivete. You are surprised that you're wishing you were just a tiny bit like her. You've known everything bad and scary about the world for as long as you can remember. She is _refreshing_.

Her hand flies to her mouth at your profanity and you stand up tall again, in full Santana stance, and motion to her.

"C'mon, let's go. Nobody's going to mean to you while _I'm _around."

She gives you a watery smile and sniffles, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

"Thanks."

You nod, and look her over. She's actually not too bad. Jeans and a shirt, and without the unicorn bag she'd look quite normal.

"Here, we'll let down your hair."

She let's you take it out the ribbon and you comb your hands through her long blonde hair. It's gorgeous.

You frame it around her face. Her skin is the colour of cream. Pale in such a nice way.

"There, now you look like everyone else!" You exclaim, surprised yourself. She looks much older with her hair down.

She looks in the mirror and a smile creeps around the corners of her lips.

She shakes her head and smiles _condescendingly _at you?

"Who wants to look like everyone else?" She laughs at you. And you smile.

You turn, shaking your head, and walk out of the bathroom.

She skips after you and links her pinky finger around yours. You look down at your joined hands. It's so lame, but you don't want to say that to her. It would probably break her heart. So instead you smile to yourself. Her pinky is warm, anyway.

"What's your name?" she sings.

"Santana Lopez," you giggle. "What's yours?"

"Brittany."

"Like Britney Spears!" She has an awesome name. This _friendship_ or whatever, is looking easier and easier by the minute.

"Yeah that's me! How did you know?" She exclaims, eyes wide. "Are you a Psyduck?"

You chuckle, and shake your head. She's funny. Or crazy.

"Let's get to lunch girl."


	2. Touch

Touch.

It's the first day back after mid-term break. Ninth grade. You're not too upset to be going back, you are looking forward to seeing your friends.

In fact, you breeze through those double doors pretty relaxed. All is well in Brittany Land. You've dug out the old My Teeny Unicorn backpack again, this time complete with matching keyring, and you stride through the corridors basking in the fact that all the guys want you and all the girls want to be you. And why wouldn't they? You are Brittany S. Pierce, genius, dancer with mad skills, and, as of recently, expert at kissing.

You see her at her old locker. When she sees you her face lights up and you run really fast toward one another, squeezing  
each other tight, swaying because you are holding so hard.

"Britt! I'm so happy to see you," she exclaims, smiling wildly at you. "Lots of news!"

And she links her pinkie in yours and leads you down the hall, talking really fast about her fall break adventures. You remember that you should tell her your story, but hers seem very interesting so you decide to tell her later about it.

Santana's the same, thankfully, you think, remembering how when those aliens probed you you changed a little. She's just like you left her. Owning them halls, abusing Finn Hudson and his boobs. It's actually good to be back in school when you're with her. You can't wipe the smile that's swallowing your cheeks as you walk around with her for the rest of the day. Queens of William McKinley High School.

But you know, school is still school. And your brain is having a little party when it hears the final bell ring. You skip down the halls and Santana smiles when you meet her at her locker.

"Only you can skip and get away with it Britt," she laughs, shaking her head into her locker.

"Why? Would you get in trouble?" You ask, confused at this.

"No it's because you are smoking hot," she turns and smiles at you.

You don't see how this logic works but you go with it. Only this year at cheer camp over summer break did people start calling you hot, and hey, you like it.

You link your pinkies together and swing them back and forth.

"My house?" You smile at her.

"Sure," she replies.

You have it all set up. _Bring it on_, popcorn and your snuggly blanket. But you need to get in to your pajamas first. You throw Santana a pair of fuzzy bottoms and a tank and then you squirm out of your Cheerios uniform at top speed. You glance over at Santana and you giggle. She's in some kind of a daze, just staring.

"Sa-an!" You sing, and her eyes rake up to yours. "Are you okay?" You laugh.

She nods, doing a little smile. But she can't keep her eyes looking at yours.

You are starting to worry about her. Then you realise that you have no top on.

"Seriously Santana!" You click your fingers at her face.

She finally looks at you. And you sigh, relieved. You move to put your pyjama top on.

"Wait," Santana says, smiling finally. You freeze with your top half on.

"Mmm?"

"I'm sorry Britt, but when did you get _abs_?" She gasps out, half-laughing.

You look down. You have become more toned from all the dancing.

"Cheer camp maybe? Whatever," you shrug, pretending not to be really proud of them.

You realise that that was what she was staring at. You pull your top over your head and down.

"You'll have to buy me a drink if you keep staring like that San," you purr, reciting a line from a TV show you watch with your mom sometimes.

She raises her eyebrows at you. Her eyes are still wide. You can tell she's really impressed.

She laughs suddenly and turns away from you, with her pyjamas in her hand.

Then, she spins around again. She's doing this cute face. You have never seen her like this. It's making you all hyper and giggly.

"Can I see them one more time?" she rasps, trying to sound small and innocent in her husky voice.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," you sing, laughing with her. This is really weird. But you don't want to stop.

She frowns at you, but then shrugs.

"Sure."

You know you could just lift up your shirt, but you are feeling weirdly hot, so you peel off your tank slowly. You smirk while Santana's eyes study your body.

"Okay," you say. Your tank in still somewhere on the floor. You don't feel like picking it up. "Your turn,"

She does her sly smile.

"No way," she says, real quiet, staring straight at your eyes now.

You have noticed it before, but not as real as this. Santana is like, _really _hot.

You stare at her lips. She says that kissing girls is wrong, but you think it might be fun. Santana is almost always right though.

She turns around after a few seconds. But that's unfair, so you grab her from behind. She screams laughing and you crash onto your bed.

"We had a deal Santana," you say, and you do your sad face.

"I don't have abs Brittany," she says quietly.

Then you get an idea.

"So you can just _perv_ on me an-"

She cuts you off.

"Whoa, I wasn't _perving_ on you, I was examining your abs to see if boys would like them."

You shake your head at her, making tutting noises.

"Ugh. You know what? Fine."

She gets off the bed, stands right in front of you, and drags her top over her head.

"Here!"

You smile. You won. She's right. She doesn't have abs like you, but her stomach is completely flat, and her waist and her hips are really pretty. Or something. You can't look away. You feel your cheeks heating up.

You put your hand out and touch the line on one of her hips. The bone. She moves slightly when you touch her. You look up. Your face feels like fire. She is staring at your eyes. But she just shrugs, so you flatten your hand onto the bottom of her tummy. It's really nice and warm. You rub your hand gently around her hip, and then you slide it up to her waist, you touch her ribs.

You can't help staring at her chest while she's breathing. The way it pushes out and falls in again. You put it in your memory to use that exact way as a dance move.

Suddenly, she pulls out of your grip. She disappears for a second and comes back with her pajamas on.

"Movie?" she asks.

"Sure," you reply, and you follow her out of your bedroom, blowing upwards on your face to cool it down.

* * *

_Thanks to all the lovely people who put me on story alert and those who reviewed the last chapter, it means loads guys. _


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